


Alarms

by theasexualfangirl



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, michael's too good to jeremy, platonic jeremy/brooke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theasexualfangirl/pseuds/theasexualfangirl
Summary: Jeremy Heere has alarms set for nearly everything he has to do in a single day, compensating for when he procrastinates or overworks himself. He typically lets four alarms sound off before he even gets out of bed, and sixteen before he leaves for school. As a senior in high school, he has to learn to make the most of his time left at Middleborough. Is this method the best, though?





	Alarms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy’s alarms are the only things that keep him functioning.

Wednesday.

**7:00. (wake up)**

That was a useless label. Jeremy's been up since 3:00 am. He just didn’t want to flip over and dismiss the abrupt sound of a ‘Constellation’. This specific alarm has been the default sound that Jeremy woke up to for the past six months, and he cringed every time he heard the melodic and soft noises pouring from his phone. He had heard it too many times to forget the painful, supposed-to-be-relaxing tone. Jeremy squinted his already shut eyes together, unintentionally clenching his jaw and tucking his head closer to his chest. 

_God, why did he have to wake up?_

He shifted under his cloudy blue covers to worm his half-asleep arm up out of the sheets, pulling himself closer to his vibrating phone resting on his nightstand. He felt around, eyes practically stapled shut by the weight of sleep, until he snatched his phone off of the charger and tapped passive-aggressively on the screen to shut the alarm up. Almost immediately, Jeremy tossed the phone back down and curled back up in bed.

This repeated three more times.

-

**8:00. (your ass better be ready to go)**

Of course, he wasn't ready. He had stayed in bed for an hour after his first alarm went off, feeling absolutely no motivation to move aside from reaching for his phone at the five-minute intervals he set his alarms for.

This wasn’t much of an issue, as it hardly took Jeremy any time to get ready before the bus stopped at the corner near his house. All he had to do was throw on a lazy outfit and make sure he was mildly suitable for being around other people all day. That was it. Nothing to it. 

So why was it so damn hard to just get going?

This was something that Jeremy asked himself every day. He had vowed to set his numerous alarms and follow them as if they were strict commands being shouted in his face. These alarms kept him on track; kept him functioning. But it was all too easy to simply resist and fall behind. It wasn’t that he was trying to fuck up his life, but Jeremy hadn’t felt quite right since last year’s little ‘I-vored-a-supercomputer-to-get-laid’ incident. Jeremy knew he wasn’t perfect, and he never would be. His anxiety made sure to let him know that years ago. Now, however, hearing that doesn’t make him as terrified as before. It isn’t a fear of imperfection anymore. It’s more of a dreary acceptance that leaks into other aspect’s of Jeremy’s life. It’s something that makes it harder to go to sleep, and harder to get up in the morning. There’s a weight that constantly pushes Jeremy closer into the earth’s core that he can’t quite describe. There’s no rhyme or reason for ‘one of those days’ happening every so often. It just happens. The feeling looms.

Jeremy thanked his lucky stars he had Michael. If it weren’t for him, Jeremy would still think having ‘one of those days’ nearly every single day was normal. Michael cautiously brought up the possibility of depression becoming a major issue in Jeremy’s life. Jeremy remembers that look on Michael’s face, sort of like how someone would look breaking the bad news about the death of a distant relative you didn’t know that well.

It wasn’t that Jeremy never saw himself as someone who would end up getting stuck with depression, but he was still taken aback when Michael uttered those words:

”That...really kinda sounds like you’re depressed, dude.”

That word physically hurt. How did Jeremy physically feel the effects of something verbal in his chest? How could a word carry so much weight? It was the same weight that Jeremy would feel when that word was eating at him.

Weight. Depression was all but a weight.

Jeremy’s phone buzzed, interrupting his gloomy train of thought. He reached his arm out to grab it, still refusing to move the rest of his body in the slightest. A notification appeared in the small banner on the screen.

 **New Message**  
**From: micah**  
hey Bitch I’m taking you to school today, you have no choice.......resistance is futile.

It was Michael.

Jeremy sighed and typed in the short passcode to unlock his phone. ‘Micah’ was a stupid little nickname that originated from Jeremy not being able to say Michael’s name properly when they were younger. Since then, Michael always teased him about it and Jeremy figured he had to accept his five-year-old self’s speech issue. Michael said the name was mushy-sounding, but after the years of joking, Jeremy found himself liking it.

 **To: micah**  
when

Jeremy typed out slowly, using up as little energy as possible. It felt like he was underwater, and he had been trying to tread for hours on end. He rolled over from his side onto his back and let his arm hang over the edge of his bed, hand gripping lazily onto his phone.

_God, why did everything feel like shit today?_

Jeremy was used to that weight dragging him down at the pit of his stomach, but today he felt it in the back of his head, and in between his eyes. He could tell the difference from just being tired and depression making Jeremy its bitch. Today’s situation was undoubtedly the latter option.

Three quick car honks sounded outside, breaking Jeremy’s train of thought leading to nowhere.

Once again, it was Michael. He had somehow already managed to make his way to Jeremy’s house.

Jeremy groaned (borderlining on a childish whine) quietly, invisible weights pulling him deeper into a mental shithole. He lifted his phone back up to his face.

 **To: micah**  
dude i csnt fucking get out f bed wyd

He ignored the typos. It didn’t really matter if the message got across.

Michael’s reply was almost immediate.

 **From: micah**  
Boy I got a key to ur house don’t you Dare make me drag you out here Heere

 **To: micah**  
lmao please?

He took in three deep breaths, feeling each one fill his lungs and leave smoothly. Jeremy heard a car door slam outside.

 **From: micah**  
you Little Shit.

 **From: micah**  
only because I love you

Jeremy cracked a small half-smile for a brief moment. How could a friend like Michael possibly be real?

It didn’t take long before Jeremy heard the sound of the front door opening and closing, followed by an obnoxiously loud: “Honey, I’m home!”

Jeremy tossed his phone haphazardly back onto the nightstand and closed his eyes. Heavy footsteps grew louder and closer, letting Jeremy know Michael was making his way up the stairs.

His door swung open, Michael grinning on the other side of it. Jeremy let one of his eyes open, and he couldn’t help a real smile tugging on the ends of his own lips as well. This dissolved into a pitiful laugh with his hands moving up to cover his face.

”So how’re we doin', My Chemically Imbalanced Romance?” Michael teased, making his way over to the pale figure engulfed by blankets. Michael knew that, if he could get a bit of a smile out of Jeremy, there was a shred of hope that he would be just fine soon.

"I want death, dude," Jeremy mumbled. He stared up at Michael with a tired smile on his face. Michael sighed as he knelt down beside Jeremy, extending a hand to ruffle to latter's wavy brown hair.

"Is there anything you need me to do?"

It was Jeremy's turn to let out a sigh. He bit his lip and shifted onto his left side to face Michael. Jeremy was about to say something, but was rudely interrupted by another alarm. He gradually screwed his eyes shut and scrunched up his nose.

"Shut that thing up for me," he groaned.

Michael swiftly nabbed Jeremy's phone and glanced at the screen before tapping it. He scoffed.

"Why does your alarm say ' _why aren't you running? WHY aren't you running!?_ '?" Michael questioned, putting on an accent when he read out the alarm's name.

"I have to make an attempt to put some joy into my life," Jeremy said, half-smile crossing his face.

"With Vine references?"

"I'm too cynical for anything else, _Micah_ ," Jeremy said, emphasizing that stupid nickname.

Michael rolled his eyes and poked the end of Jeremy's nose. He then glanced back to Jeremy's phone, checking the time. 8:45. Class started at 9:00.

"We really should get going," Michael shrugged. "If we actually want to get to class on time, y'know."

Jeremy's smile fell, and he gently pursed his lips. His eyes followed Michael as he stood up and held out his hand for Jeremy to take. Jeremy let out a breath and shut his eyes. He dispassionately lifted his arm and placed his hand in Michael's. Jeremy, head feeling heavy, pushed himself up onto his forearm to sit up. Michael patiently assisted by lifting Jeremy up by his other hand. 

Jeremy maneuvered his legs over the side of the bed and ran his free hand through his hair. Michael let go of Jeremy's hand and walked over to sit next to Jeremy. He shook Jeremy's shoulder softly and patted it twice. The two made eye contact, Michael looking hopeful.

"You'll get through today, alright?" He lifted his eyebrows and leaned in a few centimeters.

Jeremy could only nod, forcing a sorry excuse for a grin. He mouthed a quick 'yeah' and shifted his focus down to the floor. Michael pulled him into a side-hug and stood back up, Jeremy's eyes never glancing upward. Michael had made his way over to the door and was leaning on the doorframe.

"I'm gonna give you five, okay?" Michael stated.

Again, Jeremy only nodded. He heard the door squeaking shut and Michael's footsteps leading downstairs. Jeremy took a moment to breathe, head tilting all the way back to stare absentmindedly at the ceiling. _He was almost out of this hole_ , he kept reminding himself. _One. Last. Move._

-

The two managed to make it to class less than a minute before the bell rang. The entire school day drawled on, Jeremy finding himself beginning to nod off throughout every class. He didn't share any classes with Michael, or really anybody that he was comfortable around, so getting through those already-miserable five hours was especially miserable considering the circumstances.

The only time Jeremy could find solace in social interaction was during lunch. It was the only time he could see Michael all day.

The bell rang at 12:35, and Jeremy found the energy to move with some determination to reach his and Michael's designated meeting spot at the side of the school. They had both agreed to cross paths outside so they could walk together to the cafeteria, likely talking about some outrageous project their teachers just assigned or some lecture they just sat through that made absolutely no sense. It went without saying that senior year was on a completely different plane of difficulty from junior year.

Jeremy arrived at the set of old benches first, and had become used to taking a seat on the side of the nearest bench that didn't look like it was rotting while he waiting for Michael. It only took a few minutes, so Jeremy would always take out his phone and send a quick text to Christine. Yes, _the_ Christine. Jeremy's _girlfriend_. Like, an actual girlfriend.

The first day of junior high was when he saw that adorably stocky girl with precisely cut bangs and her nose in a book. In seventh grade, Jeremy had never had actual experience with a girl. Aside from sneaking onto some dodgy website topped with a banner in bright red: 'MEN 18+, FIND HOT SEXY FEMALLE IN YOU'R AREA', Jeremy had never even fallen in love with a girl properly. There was always some awkward pre-pubescent libido involved when he looked at a girl. With Christine, however, there was no libido. There was just... a static feeling in his chest, crawling up the back of his neck and down through the pit of his stomach. Sort of like when your foot falls asleep and it's just barely getting feeling back. Then, a rapid beating- no, a _pounding_ \- in his chest. He couldn't move his eyes away; they would refuse to focus on anything else. Just some girl whose face he could hardly see considering most of it was covered by some leather-bound book. Either way, he knew he was done for.

Jeremy frequently thinks to himself that if he went back in time to tell that smitten little twelve-year-old that the girl he had been too scared to talk to had since become his _real life girlfriend_ , his past self wouldn't believe him.

 **To: juliet**  
heyyy

Jeremy prided himself on the ability to put multiple 'y's at the end of a 'hey'. It was symbolic, he thought. It's social law that, if you're dating, you get to put as many damn 'y's at the end of a 'hey' as you please.

Christine responded almost immediately, but with a low-quality GIF of Pikachu waving. GIFs and reaction images were basically Christine's second language. An ellipsis in a thought bubble popped up soon after, and frequently disappeared and reappeared for a while until:

 **From: juliet**  
The musical meeting is tonight!!! :D Don't forget! *kissy-face emoji* *kissy-face emoji*

Then another GIF: the Schuyler sisters shouting out, 'work!'

Jeremy sighed and let his phone rest on the bench. He almost wished he hadn't devoted himself to theatre, but he was glad. It was more time to spend with Christine and the only other time they ever met up was after school. Of course, with last year’s disaster of a play, Jeremy felt the need to make it up to Christine for messing up one of the last plays she’d do in high school. He pushed himself to be more involved in theatre this year because... y’know, Jeremy was a good boyfriend... That’s all.

He lifted his phone back up to see the looping GIFs, overuse of exclamation points, and lovey-dovey emojis, and thought, ‘ _This is Christine._ ’ Unapologetically playful and adorably eager. Even the little things like this reminded Jeremy why he was in love with her in the first place. He smiled, a bit of that fuzzy static-y feeling building in his chest.

He went to type up a response, but—

Another alarm.

**12:45. (don't eat)**

The static was drowned out. He could feel his heart drop. A gross sting crawled up the back of Jeremy's throat, and he promptly swallowed it down. He disregarded his climbing heart rate and acted like everything was fine, as if he hadn't been reminded of something painful.

_Everything’s fine, calm down._

He dismissed the alarm and went back to typing up a short response to Christine.

 **To: juliet**  
dw, i’ve totally got a reminder set in my phone. i wouldn’t miss it. *thumbs-up emoji*

_Why should today be different?_

-

“I got dibs on the aux!”

“You always do,” Jeremy sighed, sliding into Michael’s busted up (well-loved, Michael would call it) P.T. Cruiser.

The two decided against the idea of cafeteria food after catching sight of the wilted-looking crispitos and bruised apples vacuum-sealed into thin plastic bags. Off campus to 7-11 it was.

“I beg of you, no Weezer.”

“Stop killing my 90’s aesthetic, Jere,” Michael retorted, slamming his door shut. Jeremy followed suit.

“Can I make a request?”

“You can make a suggestion,” Michael stated, narrowing his eyes at Jeremy.

“Gorillaz?” Jeremy leaned back in his seat, watching Michael’s taunting expression turn into genuine surprise.

“Dude,” Michael started softly. “You actually listened to a band I recommended?”

Jeremy shrugged, a smug look on his face. 

“Fucking _finally_!” Michael laughed, plugging the aux cord into his phone. “Shit, man, you never listen to anyone I tell you about!”

“Brooke had one of their songs on some playlist,” he explained. “I remember you mentioned them once so I gave the rest of their stuff a shot.”

“Holy shit, I’m an idiot,” Michael muttered. “Why have I not made you a _playlist_ yet?!” He turned his eyes to Jeremy. 

“Do you have a favorite song of theirs?”

“They have... _so_ many songs, Michael.”

Michael scrunched up his face, thinking. Then he sat back in his seat and put a hand on the steering wheel, thumb shifting over it back and forth nonchalantly.

“I’ve heard what you listen to,” Michael thought aloud, nodding his head. “Gimme a few days and I’ll have something ready for you.”

“You’re serious?” Jeremy asked, admittedly a bit disinterested. Music was more Michael’s thing, anyway.

“Yeah. Maybe I can actually get your head out of Brendon Urie’s ass for a while,” Michael laughed, starting up the car.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean,” Michael twisted to face Jeremy. “You’re an emo piece of shit.”

“Stop.”

“You know I’m right!”

Jeremy scoffed and shook his head, not exactly refuting the fact that he spent too much time blasting basic depressed kid music. Michael nudged Jeremy with his elbow and returned to his phone, tapping on it quite audibly before the intro to _Clint Eastwood_ filled the car. A smug grin pulled at his lips as Jeremy slowly turned to face him, eyes narrow.

“Y’know, we’ll start with the basic emo shit first,” Michael digged. “We’ll work your way up to stuff outside of your comfort zone soon enough.”

“Fuck you.”

Michael leaned forward and tried biting back a laugh, recoiling and only snickering more when Jeremy started jabbing him in the shoulder. Jeremy stuck out his tongue through a toothy grin, the first real smile on his face all day.

“Just fucking drive, you asshole.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yo check out my tumblr: @theasexualfangirl


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